Poetry Through My Life
by sarenelsoria
Summary: These are Poems I have written over the course of the last twelve years


Poetry

Kyla Hockman

Stifled

I feel stifled by society,

I'm like a rose,

that's only allowed to open one way.

People say to be yourself,

But when I am, they go away.

I'm sick of this allusion,

People are full of delusion.

About what's really going on,

When they say to be yourself,

They mean to be like them,

Then you have to start all over again.

I'm tired of building myself up,

Only to be knocked back down,

My head spinning every time I turn,

Turn around, in circles,

Never ending, they just go round and round.

Why can I never standing upon solid ground.

Trying to remember what I found.

While trying to make my insecurities go away,

While having who I am stick around.

The Slime of Society

I see your smirks and sidewise glances,

They no longer pierce my heart like lances.

You can keep your backward hopes and dreams,

Just personally I don't see, how we have the time.

Making others doubt themselves should be a crime.

Society can rot in its own slime,

Personally I'd rather be out in the sunshine.

Can't you see where this is going,

We have to turn the planet around,

Before everyone, is standing upon shaky ground.

To me that would be just fine,

Others simply haven't got the time.

I'm used to being knocked down, till I can't stand it anymore.

I feeling rather sore, about the stifling nature of society,

The fears and tears, the sly looks and cornered glances.

The slow motion stagnation, its time America face facts,

We're still in segregation.

You can't marry if you're of different gender.

You can't be anything but the norm.

You have to join the swarm

Only what society tells you, is any good at all.

They make you beg to be who you are on your knees,

They make you crawl.

I'm tired of crawling,

I'm tired of falling down.

When they erect new barriers and say simply, go around.

I keep banging myself against a wall,

Of course I'd be lucky enough to be born,

Not knowing quite how to crawl.

Just remember that pride comes before a fall.

Jaded

I feel my heart crusting over with green ice,

Its much nicer then the pain I feel,

As I stumble through a life,

Full of war and of strife,

So very unfair, but what does anyone care?

They'd much rather have their heads up their asses,

Join the sheep like masses.

I hate to be crass,

I have to ask,

Why the hell do you think I need Christ?

I'd like to shove that stupid book down their throats,

If they force me to give it another look.

I read what I want, when I want.

I don't need anyone else selling me their version of god.

Mine's just fine thanks all the same,

At least I don't confuse his name.

I mean seriously, can't you see that Islam and Christianity,

Are pretty much the same.

Terany by any other name.

Rasing men to god like stature,

While leaving women alone,

Just because we had the poor luck,

to be grown out of Adam's chest bone?

I'm tired of apologizing because my ideals don't fit the norm,

You can keep your bloody soildures of god,

Keep doing what you've been doing for the past two thousand years.

Building yourself up upon other's dreams, hopes, fears and tears.

If god gives a crap about us mortals, which I highly doubt,

Then you got to wonder what the hell is all this about.

I feel as though god is the best comedian in the world,

He has the same people on apposing sides,

God that guy knows how to play the field.

Flying Free

Flying free, above the clouds.

Soaring and tumbling through strife,

Trying to be ever thankful for the gift of life.

There's so much to see, so much to know,

So much that I just can't understand.

Time's hourglass is spilling sand,

I still don't know how to be a woman.

There's so much more then what meets the eyes,

Its time to realize the truth from the lies.

It doesn't matter your race or religion,

All that matters is who you are within.

What spirits call to you, be they bad or good,

When your consciousness tells you things,

Listen you should.

Understand and you will be understood.

Turn Again

Turn again

Turn, turn, turn again,

You'll have me twisting in circles,

Till my life ends.

Forward's backwards, side to side,

Please somebody just make up your mind.

Its so annoying can't you see,

What its like to be me.

Constantly confused,

Unsure of where I'm supposed to stand,

While people spin me around in circles,  
While I listen to their demands.

Turn, turn, turn again,

If you'd try to work with my mind,

Soon you'd find yourself in a bind.

As people send you here, there and everywhere

Oh how I wish other's could fully see,

What its like to be me and how very confusing the world can be.

Twisted April 20th

You think I'm odd,

But by god, look at the world.

Normal people are upsured.

They do crazy things to be reassured.

Its twisted and depraved,

Can't the world just behave?

People hating each other,

For no other reason then religon.

People trying to sell their god on the street,

I'm pretty sure Jesus isn't someone I'm likely to meet.

Why can't we just all be sweet,

Why must the kind, be always in a bind.

Oh please someone send me a sign,

That there is some hope out there for mankind.

Can't you see what has happened to the world,

Society is unraveling, becoming unfurled.

We're in the toilet of life, waiting to be swirled.

Twisted around, until its hard to find stable ground.

Playful April 22

I feel playful today,

It's a day to jump and laugh

To not do things by half.

To not get work done,

To just have some fun.

Not to think about,

What is wrong,

But instead sing a little heart song.

I feel playful today,

I want to sing,

I want to do most anything.

I want to write and read,

Not to head,

The voice of wisedom saying,

Why are you out here playing?

I'm playing because play is the thing to do,

If your one or a hundred and one,

If you play good things will come to you.

Dance

Life is a dance,

A romance,

A chance to change,

To rearrange,

What you are inside.

There's no reason,

To fear or to hide.

In the dance,

The four elements,

Come together and apart,

They move,

They dart.

They spin tapestries,

Unseen by the eyes of man,

For how can any man understand?

Life is a dance,

A summer breeze in flight,

A bird singing in the dead of night,

The pretty sounds and sights,

That set this world alight,

Alight with passion and power,

Alight with a beauty that continues,

Hour after hour,

When the dance ends,

A new one begins,

At the start

All you can hear from the old dance,

Is the ever constant beating,

Of Mother Earth's heart.

Man's Kingdom

Lets conquer all the earth, to prove our worth.

Lets dance in the sun and in the moon.

Lets never truly see, what is to happen soon.

Always thinking for the present,

The future a distant thing,

Never noticing, the doomed discordant notes,

That we are making, through the planet.

It won't happen to us, we always say,

Right before going on our merry way.

Meanwhile the water is drying up,

The oceans rising,

Not much else is on the horizon.

Instead we'd much rather argue,

As well as disagree, upon things that would make sense,

To have in our society.

We treat everyone poorly,

Then we act sorely when they do the same.

Can't you see that tormenting people that are different,

Isn't a game.

The whole world is going insane,

The whole planet has a stain.

Of greed and power,

No time to smell the flowers,

Or sit by a gently lapping stream.

Instead with every hour, we must devour,

Everything within sight,

Like greedy, grabby children,

We hold on tight to the world with all our might.

Never noticing that we're choking it.

That we're killing it,

When that bell tolls, it won't be god's fault,

It will be ours, do to all our cars.

All our wars and strife,

Never truly thinking of the gift of life.

Hating each other, for race and religion,

Its silly to hate your fellow man for his color of skin,

Or what he believes, or preserves,

The world to be,

We've got to be free,

To escape the clutches of society.

Steam of Society

The stars are dancing in the sky,

Orbiting the heavens with delight.

The moonshine is bright overhead,

Long past time to be abed.

So many thoughts in my head,

I'd much rather just sit by a stream,

Looking up at the sky,

Dreaming of days gone by,

Of days that are yet to come,

The future is far from set,

But society gathers me into their net.

They dance with clumsy moves,

I'm unable to copy.

Then they expect me to fallow them,

I fear that they would swallow me,

I'd be gone,

vanished into the stream of society.

We fallow the currents until one day,

We are completely sucked in.

Then that's the end,

We're only them.

Being afraid to have any thought of our own,

Personally, I'd much rather be on my own.

However in this world, you must be like a stone,

Let the stream's currents take you where it wills.

Until you find the bottom of the stream and settle,

Like hundreds of rocks before, you have given in.

You don't know where society ends and you begin.

Poem to a Far Distant Star

For without your starlight, I am nothing.

I am only the darkness, abandoned by the heavens,

I await a death that will never come.

There is no joy to my dark nights,

Without my bright star to light the way.

Oh stay oh heavens,

Have mercy upon my soul.

I feel no self worth,

There is no mirth without you,

Distant star, I don't know who I am,

Or where you are.

I smile even though I feel like crying,

Even though parts are me are dying,

As well as being reformed,

I am being reborn,

Shining brightly I arise,

From cloudy and uncertain skies.

Oh starlight, your beauty bright,

The sight unseen,

The hope, the silent dream,

The sky opened up before me,

Though there are places that you'll never go,

That you'll never see.

So many versions of you,

That you will never dream.

Moonlight

The reflection of water,

The doe drinking, by the stream.

The soft lapping of the water,

As it lazily, drifts onto the shore.

The sound of owls in flight,

Overhead, wings ghosting.

As they hunt for mice.

The map of the heavens,

Passes by, as I lay back in tall grass.

Thinking of nothing,

Yet everything, as I watch the night pass by.

Gift Of Life

One part love,

That is always near us

One part strife,

For men, will always disagree.

One part thankfulness,

For the gift we call life.

One part for everything,

That can go wrong.

One part joy,

in first hearing of a song

One part night,

One part day,

One part a time to play,

To rejoice, and give voice,

To the simple pleasures.

One part god,

One part his children,

Which apparently is all of us.

Though his children are too eager,

To throw others, under a bus,

If they do not get their way.

Sad to say, religon is the game,

Grownup children play.

One part having a bible thrown in my face,

One part doing, an abrupt about face.

Its not that I don't like god,

I just don't like others using his name,

To play their own sick and twisted games.

One part discovering that I'm Agnostic,

A name that I find, rather caustic.

One part, suffering,

One part pain,

Well lived or not, life ends all the same.

My Heart's Tide

My heart pulls like the tides

In and out, back and forth,

It's hard to find a rhythm and time.

The wind calls my name,

The waves of my emotion,

Pull me in all directions.

In and out, back and forth,

I go, never knowing where

I'm going, letting the waves take me.

Suddenly I realize what's right before my eyes.

I can control the waves, therefore,

I can control the tide,

Of mismatched hopes and schemes

Stories and strange dreams.

The tide of love and the tide of hate.

The tide that pulls upon my heart.

The tide that's been there from the very start.

For this tide is creativity, it comes from all around.

Skimming the surface of my waves,

Never quite touching ground.

Everyone has their own waves and their own tide,

Pulling at them from inside.

Life is certainly a wild ride.

''

Dragons

Creatures, of mist and fire,

Figures, of fantasy and desire.

The sight unseen,  
The hope,  
The dream,

The plan,

The scheme

The secret fire,

Burning inside,

The hope that's forgotten,  
that ceases to hide.

The magic, the mystery

The human history,

Stories past down from ancient times.

The fire's that spawned,

The dragon's Breath.

Man's fears and tears,

Dragons are a mirror,

To all of mankind,

If you don't believe me,

Well that's just fine.

Different and Simillar

Different and yet similar

No one else is like you,

Everyone has no wish,

To simply spite you.

They all have their problems,

Their fears and tears.

The strange way they say,

The world is going to be.

I like my world better,

But that's alright,

I can keep it in my heart,

Mind and soul,

A secret that no one else will know.

A hidden hour,

A beautiful flower.

A way to scour the truth from lies.

I wish mankind would realize,

What's right before their eyes.

Instead they always turn away,

Fro me, when they are just starting,

To see, what this world truly can be.

Stream of Life

I Miss the quiet stream

A simple place to hope and dream,

To plan and see,

The world as it should be,  
Instead of others who surround me.

I wish I could get past,

The flood of humanity,

At the same time,

There's no way to properly be.

There's no way to be me,

There's no way to be free.

I wish that I could see,

What the mass of roaring people

Say, as their arms ripple like currents,

Each with its own unique way.

So beautiful and pure,

Till they speak and spoil for me.

Oh doesn't it always seem to go,

That man is entirely too fast,

Never wanting to take it too slow.

America

America it's the red white and blue

It's the me and it's the you

It's the lines that were made for us,

Before we were born

It's the lines that we draw ourselves,

Stating who we can and cannot be,

What we can and cannot see

We are all human beings,

Can't we just all learn to get along?

As together our voices raise in song?

Perhaps all we need to do is to stay strong.

Yet the fight for our freedom seems to take so long.

Blood and Bones

If we could but see the blood that was spilt in the name of freedom,

The bones of our ancestors that are tied in this land,

The dead that have died in the name of freedom,

In the name of a Liberty that they never saw within their lifetimes.

The oceans would run red in the name of the honorable dead.

Northerner or Southerner, these anchient battles we still fight,

Over what is wrong and what is right.

I grew up where other children once played,

Over the bones of those that had come before me.

Never knowing, never seeing, with my innocent eyes, what had been done.

What continues to be done, in the name of freedom.

Our leader lies, but we can find each other in one another's eyes.

We can still see, that we are still here and that there is no need to fear.

Stand strong together, honor the dead,

The path before us is unclear, but a brighter future lies ahead.

10,000 Things

Ten Thousand things lie between us,

Between us and our ancestors,

Those that have walked in this land before,

Those that will ever walk this land.

The ghosts of those that remain behind,

Guarding against those who would harm them.

Who would harm this land.

The spirts of those that were killed,

To pave the way for the country we see today,

Never settled, ever present, you feel them at times,

In the woods, where you dare not go.

There is a darkness to some parts of the forest,

Things that cannot be seen, things that simply are felt.

Walk unafraid through wild land,

Where things are still untamed,

Where the spirits linger in the shadows,

Wanting to be remembered,

Wanting to ensure that what happened to them,

Will never happen again.

Their spirit runs through all of us,

The past that lies behind, the future that lies ahead.

Honor the restless dead,

Though they are gone,

Others still live on.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea,

The voices of birds call out through crystalline clouds to me.

It floats over the cliffs waiting for me,

Like my mother has before, I stop and

I smell the sweet scent of blackberries, standing on the rocky shore and pick some.

Licking the sweet black and purple juice from my fingers,

Careful to avoid the thorns, small as a needle,

though they pierce my fingers like daggers.

I turn as my mother calls in truth and get back into the car,

Listening to the whir of the engine as we drive away.

Cobwebs creeping through time

The waves have no meaning.

Changed forevermore

Dreams of delierium

Rocks tumbling over rapids

Play is like a hurricane in motion

Cloudy yet clear at the same time

The strumming of an instrument

The breath of a sleeping dragon

A pirite returning victorious from a raid

Broken dreams and lost hopes

I will not know what is reality and what was the dream.

It was the elixer of life and her salvation

Darkness is like light

Answers

A fragile strand

Shaking against the enevitable

The darkest depths

The river of life goes on, long after those that travel upon it are gone.

We fight against the inevitable,

Yet eventually we will be swept away.

Away from broken dreams and lost hopes,

As well as those dreams and hopes that became reality.

The waves crash over us, until they have no meaning.

Until we are the rapids and rocks tumble over us.

Or perhaps we are the rocks,

Starting out rough, we get washed smooth with time.

Desptite all our demands and dreams,

Time creeps over us and in the end,

We are but a fragile strand of sea foam,

As it goes back to the ocean.

Whipping back and forth, running in circles,

Who can know where the wild horse goes,

As it chases the wind,

Free from mankind for all of time it runs,

Its energy like a lightning stike as it chases the wind.

Its strength is a wonder to behold,

As it refuses to be tamed, renamed as a man would will.

It is is wild, it is free, it is something that we all somehow long to be,

Yet there is a fear inside no matter how much we might try to hide,

Of running free, of being contrary to how our fellow man wishes us to be.

So we hide behind our screens and try to seem above everything,

Yet in the end we are all just animals after all,

We are the horse and society is the wind,

Sometimes we must bend to its nature,

At other times we try to run alongside it,

Or even outpace it.

Yet no matter how hard we may try to escape,

It will always be there just around the corner.

Spider Mother

To my children.

It was a day like any other, the day my mate vanished without a trace.

The smooth steel seemed like the perfect place for a web,

to settle down and start a family.

Yet on that day it was all washed away as a monster entered our home,

Filling it with water, before we had a chance to run.

I was up higher and barely managed to escape, but my mate was washed away,

The water ebbing and flowing making it seem like he would escape his fate,

Yet there was no escape for him in the end.

The monster seemed genuinely sad at what they had done,

As they held his limp body in their hand,

moving it from where we once had decided to build a home together.

Many years have come and gone, I've tried to move on,

Have children new webs and new mates,

But never will I forget the day that that flood was unleashed,

Nor how the monster came and stole my mate from me.

I am old now, my children grown and have gone on to build webs of their own,

So I have come back to where so long ago my mate was stolen,

To end my days as he ended his.

Children be careful if you can, of the monster that is man

and the watery web they weave,

or else you too will be trapped.

See out

Look in

Hide in sight

Shows weather

Lets in sound

Keeps out rain

A pane

Lets out cold

Keeps in warmth

Shows frost figures

Absorbs moisture

Lets out light

It lets out light, against the darkness of the night,

It allows for shadows to play across the floor.

In winter frost figures dance across it.

It shows the changing of the seasons,

Though the world outside and in never changes.

It allows people to hide in plain sight.

Letting out cold and keeping in warmth.

It stops the rain from getting inside.

Yet all that is needed to hide from the world,

Is to close its shuttered eyes.

Mankind's Folly

We never thought it would end,

That we would go on and on,

Attacking one another,

Demanding while giving as little as possible.

Still in the end only so much can be demanded.

So much taken, before like a bullied and beaten child

The one being attacked starts to fight back.

It started in a small way, the planet's revolt against mankind.

The seasons became hotter and hotter,

Then colder and colder.

People froze to death, or died from the heat.

Still we didn't cease our attack on the planet's resources.

We cut down trees, leaving the ground, broken and bloody.

We drilled into the planet extracting its black blood,

So we could move more quickly and easily.

We never thought of the future, never of tomorrow,

Always the easiest answer, the most convient question.

Then we stopped questioning entirely, becoming lazy and complasient.

In the end what doomed us was our own pride,

Our belief that no matter how many creatures we might kill,

How many eco systems we might destroy,

We would still survive and thrive.

Until finally we made the only home we had uninhabitable.

There's very few creatures anymore,

And people are becoming fewer and fewer.

By the time we tried to do something about what we had created,

Our planet like a monster had turned against us in the end.

Several generations ago, mankind thought its greatest enemy was its neighbor,

That they would kill one another in massive world ending explosions.

In the end however it was mankind's greed that killed us,

Wiping us out until nothing remained except memory.

The honey tongued snake begiler of mankind,

Of our darker natures and minds.

Demanding that we feast upon the forbidden fruit

Until nothing remains of who we once were.

Innocence stolen replaced in kind with the need

To hide behind shield and stone,

To never show who we truly are.

To become like the snake to some extent,

Trying to begile and befriend

until someone's defenses begin to thaw.

Then we strike out, rather than seeking reason.

Hunger

It called to me across the sea, beconing me to come,

The thrum of awe and might better than any other sight,

Is a hoard unprotected from my might.

With fire and flame, the dragon came,

Forcing us from harth and home,

For many a year and many a spilt tear,

We wandered far from home.

I wait for a day a month, a year,

But as time passes and no one comes,

I drift into slumber sure that my treasure is secure.

Eventually I find away back across the land,

To where I was born and I take a stand,

As I take my kingdom back from the the one that stole it.

I feel them underground, their voices sound loud to my ears.

These tiny creatures no longer fear,

Instead they demand and try to claim,

What is mine in all but name.

I must burn everything to the ground smote it down.

The dragon's last breath arrives and finally my people shall thrive.

Kracken

I am death from where you would least expect,

I hear the creaking below the waves,

The coming of a storm

That's when I strike,

No warning sight to make the sailors fright

Tenticals arise from the deep,

As I slowly creep above the thrashing waters.

I steal these men away from daughters and wives,

I take all their lives and swallow them down,

Into their maw.

I call out in delight and vanish until another night.

Urban Midnight

Climbing the stairway gray with urban midnight

The night creeps up on me, darkness seeping over

All cracks and crevices.

Some darker than others, as I walk through the shadows.

The sneaking sensation of being followed,

Being chased by the darkness away from the light.

Sometimes it feels like it will never be light again,

Until hesitant fingers grab against an artificial sun,

The night is banished for now,The battle won.

Yet as soon as the light is turned off,

Or I turn away, the night will once again hold

Me in its sway.

Until the first light of day sparks it to flee,

The darkness once again hiding from the sun.

Until once more the sun sleeps below the earth

Then once again the night will unearth,

The fears of mankind and make it theirs,

Until the sun rises once again,

To banish the darkness.

Waking Up

Morning tastes the way a rock felt kissing me on the eye

My voice is gravely like rock fall when I first wake.

My breath would push against the strongest of bolders.

My hair is as tumbled and tangled as rocks bouncing

Against one another in a river.

I am not ready to primp or polish myself for the day.

Like a moss covered bolder I am perfectly content to rest,

Undisturbed until such a time that someone or something

Insists that I be moved,

Then I will slowly roll from where I lay,

And having no other choice get up and greet the day.

Bad Santa

I see you when your sleeping children,

I watch you when you wake,

I stalk your every move,

Just for old times sake.

You may grow to believe,

That I don't exist,

That I'm not here,

But every shadow and sound,

That's not supposed to be around,

Every time you have cause to fear,

I'm here.

I do spread toys to all the good little girls and boys,

Yet at the same time I stalk your every move,

Waiting for you to make it on my naughty list.

After all naughty children are rarely missed.

Then without a sound,

Santa clause is coming to town.

Dark Magic

Casting a magic spell, a wizard learns a horrible mistake.

No one could tell what dastardly form the spell would take.

A demon from the depths of hell,

Or something that long ago fell into the abbess

Whatever he had caused, he must right,

Or the life he had once lead would be gone.

Still he carries on,

Forced to don armor and fight.

To win the battle with his might.

Perhaps in the end everything will turn out alright.

Still if he rises to the occasion or if he fails and falls,

It is only a story and it will end with the turning of a light

And the soft call of goodnight.

Captured Child

One in a kingdom far away a baby was stolen away.

The passing of time could not forgive the crime.

As the child grew into a wild girl.

Who dreamed of the world outside her room.

One day she stole away from her captor.

Walked down the paths she had been taken from

Yet her captor would not let her go,

The child hid in the branches of a kind tree,

The woman assumed that she did flee,

Back to her father's knee.

She turned away from the path,

Returning to where she dwelled.

Allowing the child to be free.

Quicksand

Sinking through sand I slip into a dream,

Where I am falling down so far,

That I do not know where the ground must lie.

I try to see the sky, but it seems so far away,

I feel trapped without hope of freedom.

Until suddenly I stop falling and escape

The confines of my prison.

I feel like a shell of who I once was,

When I started to fall.

Worst of all is the suspision that

The world I left is not the same as the one I am in now,

I see an archway and having no better plan

Walk through it into the unknown.

Stories

Reading a story is like capturing the heart of humanity,

It does not matter if your young or old,

Stories hold purpose for all that can tell them.

Stories are the very life of humanity,

The wonder and magic that seems to be so hard to find

Outside childhood can be sought once more through

Inky pages, that crackle as you read.

Old book and new ones let off a distinctive smell,

Which makes me wonder at what tales these tales could tell.

Sometimes I wish I could dwell solely within the pages,

Be more than I am, a knight battling a great serpant,

Or perhaps a woman stuck inside an hourglass,

Forced to turn from child to elder with the sands of time?

Stories are the very breath of life,

to me they are what makes life worth living.

As a spider weaves its web, mankind tells countless tales.

More stories have been lost than can ever be found.

Still the tradition of story telling remains around.

Tin Solidure

One day as I was walking in the rain,

I was suddenly shrunk to the size of an army man.

I found an old discarded toy boat

I decided to sail the flooded sea of my backyard.

What unknown treasures were there to be found.

Simply lying upon the ground.

For a year and a day I sailed away,

My crew of one in the rain and sun,

Until to my joy I found myself in a strange and wonderous land.

Seeking to understand where the treasure was hidden,

I disembarked from the boat I had ridden,

Walking once more upon that far away shore.

I stumbled through tall grasses,

Until I found a coin filled with old magic.

I stepped upon it and left that long forgotten land.

Returning instead to that day,

I left as I was walking in the rain.

Tea

Each cup of tea seems like a different journey into unknown lands.

The steam rises gently and allows for the senses to take flight.

Drinking tea makes the mind wander.

It makes you feel like you are alone in the world,

Yet connected to everyone and everything.

Some see things in empty cups,

Hidden depths of fortold prophesies.

Dark shadows of the mind,

Can rise up to pray upon the unwary.

Still in the end, the cup becomes empty.

All liquid either spilled into a giant maw,

Or escaping the overflowing barrier,

One drop at a time.

Until it is no longer time for tea.

The Path of The Wanderer

Wandering down the whispering roads,

Passed hushaby lane,

I see the flowers bloom and fade away

As all things do in time.

In the contemplative quiet,

Nothing is as it seems,

Not sure if this is reality,

Or I have slipped silently into a dream.

I feel like a portrait of my former self,

Not quite right, or like the orginal.

People still seem to idolize the picture of my person,

Rather than who I am myself.

I wonder how soft the sheep are,

As they roam the wandering hills.

I find that I am no longer content to blindly follow,

The paths that others tread,

So I turn from them instead,

As I go on my way,

Down hushaby lane.

Old Man Time

Old man time seems to sleep,

In the land of golden harvests,

Still nothing is as it seems,

Uncertain of what is reality and what is the dream,

Perhaps I have slipped into the imaginings,

Of old man time, as he holds the clock

To all realities and none.

I feel like a creatured captured

By fate and destiny,

Moved to the rythem

Of the ticking of the clock.

Some might attempt to escape,

Before it is too late,

Yet time creeps up to us in the end

Some day he shall awaken

And the universe shall cease

Yet for now we are trapped

In this beastly beautiful body,

Compelled to capture the clanking

Of the clock,

Until our seconds cease and we go,

Back once more to where we once dwelled,

Before time had his hold on us.

In the end, we are much as we were in the

Beginning not knowing the time,

Or caring about its sway on us.

Dragon Slayer

On a quest to slay a deadly beast,

Wandering through passageways,

Built by people long gone.

I still carry on,

My determination will not cease

As I walk alone through forgotten stone.

Until at last I come to the dragon's home.

I find not a creature of blood and bone,

But instead one of anchient tomes.

Knowledge is the key,

To take me to where I wish to be.

Finally I stand, pen in hand,

Against my foe,

I slay him dead,

Cut off his head,

No longer will ignorance roam.

For I have saved the knowledge,

Lost in time's inbrace and the old tome.

For when you have books, you are never alone.

The Man and The Cat

Ink runs like blood down the page,

As the man with no use for slower paced passing,

Runs through the house,

On a mission only he knows.

The cat is not sure how to take the proceedings,

And looks on with a distasteful stare,

Watching as the one that deins to feed him passes by.

He licks one paw, before turning to silent contemplation.

The man could do less running and the cat could do more,

Opposites their day revolves around one another,

The man depends upon the cat for solice,

As the cat depends upon the man for sustainence.

They live together and apart for all of the cat's nine lives,

Until like a flower wilting in the sun,

Such balance fades into memory,

Leaving the man to go about his days alone,

Until he brings home a small curled form,

That mews plaintively from a box

The cycle begins yet again,

As a cat returns to the man's house.

The Fisherman, Old Man Tom

Some might seek trasures unfortold,

Or travels far from one's abode,

Or nature's beauty yet to unfold,

Yet old man Tom seeks only his fishing pole,

As he watches the waters dance on

A slumberous sunny afternoon.

He stands knee deep in water,

As he finds the golden and silver watery treasures,

Pulling them up onto the shore,

Watching as they twist and turn,

In a futile attempt to survive.

Old Tom has watched these waters for many years,

He has seen the same fish that wind up on his line,

As tiny unformed things, their life barely beginning.

He pulls himself from the water,

As he hears his Grandson returning home from school.

He stretches and his back cracks like a narled old tree,

Before he brings the pale inside and wraps the small boy

In his arms, listening to his every tale.

The boy and old Tom are not so different from their dinner,

Or the fish that old Tom watches daily,

One is just beginning his life,

The other ending it.

The cycle goes on,

Like the whirlpools and eddies

From the stream that Old Tom watches

Day after day, year after year.

The Old Man's Mask

As the old man sits underneath the tree,

He thinks of his life what has been,

What yet could still be.

He thinks of all the people he once knew,

All their many layers like a matrushka doll,

Popping open one defense after another,

The old man has figured out how to get

To the very core of others.

People find his ability to understand

Them unsettling, as people rarely understand themselves.

In a society where we are taught,

To wear different masks from an early age,

In order to find ways to avoid being hurt

By those that have no desire to see who

They or others truly are.

The old man has no time for such pleasentries.

So many doors and possibiltiys lie behind him now,

He has no desire to mask who he is,

Instead he lives moment to moment.

Knowing not everyone will understand,

The ways of the old man.

Old Man Ryme

Old man ryme sleeps, the clock quieessent in his arms

No one knows the dreams of old man time.

Does he fade on winds that blow him throughout

Time and space.

As he watches people race by.

Their lives like the span of a mayfly?

Does he hear the whisper of those that came before,

Born out upon the wind,

As ghosts and shadows silently stalk through him.

Does he wonder at the passing of himself,

As all things fade in time,

Who will take his place in space,

Who will watch over the ticking of the the clock,

Or without the old man to guard it,

Will time simply sleep or cease to be.

Old man time does not consider these things,

As he passess through the realm of dreams,

He is ageless and aged at the same time,

Ravaged by the rigors of his regard to time.

He awakes once more and resumes his solityary guard.

Forbidden Kingdom

In a forbidden kingdom, hidden far away

A princess was stolen by minions of the shadow king.

They hid her away from all she had once known,

Keeping her locked deep beneath the earth,

Until one day a hero came to free her from captivity.

He road a gigantic wolf made of shadow

He fought back the shadows with his sword,

Which blazed bright with its own firey light.

He came to the Princess's aide,

She rewarded him with lands of his own,

So he never again had to roam.

She then offered him her heart as his home

He accepted the very next day,

So they returned to the forbidden kingdom hidden far away.

Chains of Our Ancestors

From one generation to the next,

The ghost of the past is spread,

Chaining us to what has been,

What perhaps will be.

We are caught in the thorns

Of the making of our ancestors,

What came before might come again,

If we are uncareful unlucky cursed,

To repeat the past again and again,

Until someone finally breaks the cycle.

Crying loud and long,

No more of what we had before.

Yet who's to say that what will come,

Will be truly better.

Old Cat Woman

Old cat woman holds a heart in her hands,

As the beating of the drum makes her dance,

To a song that only she knows.

She walks the path between the living and the dead,

Her voice brings dread wherever she goes.

Once she loved a man, as much as anyone can.

Still he betrayed her and since he stole her heart away,

She repaid him in kind.

Old cat woman walks to the drum of long ago love,

Which was stolen away and turned into something,

Ugly bitter unkind.

Yet she continues walking day after day,

Year after year,

To the beating of the torn and bloody broken heart.

The rythem following her wherever she goes.

The Priestace of the Moon

The priestice of the moon,

Wears a cloak of autum,

She walks through ice

As well as fire,

To reach her hidden

Inner desire.

She speaks to snakes,

Like them shedding

Her skin until

She had nothing

Left to shed.

She is broken

Yet whole

Life has taken its

Toll upon her,

She is the gatekeeper,

Though if she is

Keeping others out

Or only herself in,

Is something

Only she knows.

My Mask

Sometimes I feel as though I am wearing a mask,

Spending day after day in a trap of my own making.

I think of the shadow of what I have been,

What I might become one day.

Everyone has their demons,

Their masks that we all wear,

Though some might not admit it.

We hide things, from others and sometimes even

From ourselves that we do not like.

I think everyone strives as much as possible,

For their version of perfect,

Still we all have our masks,

Through which the cracks peak through.

Like the bark on a anchient tree,

You can see in between the lines sometimes,

Discovering who people truly are,

What has made them into what they have become.

Yes we all have mask and the world is nothing more,

Than a mascarde.

Grotesque at times, beautiful at others,

As we dance around, day by day.

Pretending that the song will go on forever,

Till suddenly the music stops

And we fall once more into the abyss.

Cycle of Life

Life Cycle

We are all born alone

We all die alone too.

Some might try to run from fate

While others try to fight it.

Still we are all jousting at windmills,

Pulled forward through life,

From birth to death the cycle

Carries us forward,

As though time was just one

Giant machine, ticking by

Moment by moment.

We all live and die,

In the blink of the eye,

Of the world.

The clock carries on,

Long after we are gone,

Tick tock, tick tock,

Don't let time pass you by.

Ice Queen

The ice queen wears icicles in her hair,

Her necklace is of ice,

Falling down and all around her.

She wears a cloak of winter,

As she breathes snow falls

From her lips,

Little artic kisses

Pushing past her mouth,

Released into the air.

She is alone in a frozen wasteland

Not seeking anyone to stand beside.

As no one seeks her,

Yet year after year,

She returns and the snow falls once more.

Her icy breath bringing winter,

Until suddenly it seems,

Someone has melted the queen,

Calling her home from where she once had been,

She stands free of regalia,

Strong and proud,

Until winter comes then once more

She goes out into the storm.

Demons and Dragons

We all have our demons, our dragons too,

We fight against the day,

Against the things that don't go our way.

Some fight against being the same,

Taking on problems as one corperate machine,

As they slowly fade into shadows of themselves.

Some hide from their demons,

While others stand against them,

Fighting them with every breath they make.

Regardless we all make our own mistakes.

We cannot stop time from passing,

As the seconds tick from days to years,

We are all we have been are and will be,

A summation of our joys and fears.

We are all carried up upon the winds of life,

Like birds we try to fly with the wind,

Yet in the end we all must land,

In so doing take our final stand.

Some fight their demons until their dying day,

While others simply let it all fade away.

The Voyager

We all journey through life,

While others walk upon.

Paths once tread,

Scatting the seeds

Of what will be,

Others battle with fear and dread,

At what might be.

Still others feel as though they stand

All alone at the brink of a presapice,

Which lures them in,

Whispering promises of sweet surrender.

Still others ride the rolling sea

Of thoughts and feelings,

Getting lost in the crashing waves,

Until they can no longer

See the shore.

Until the wave lifts them up once more,

And they are lost to the sea.

Still others fight forces that seem,

Impossible to defeat.

With time there are many paths,

People walk upon.

Still no matter the voyage taken,

One day they shall all be gone.

Love

Love can feel like you are either falling or flying,

At least you are together,either way.

The promise of what might be,

Is contained within the dust of what came before.

Like an old dress in a acctic,

Some things never we meant to be,

Yet others find their way,

Through the sky they fall,

Reaching the ground together,

They stand hand in hand.

But there are still memories,

Of what had been,

Of people's passionate fire,

That burned so bright,

That it scortched all it touched,

Even their love in the end.

Scattered missives of what has been,

Light the way to the next generation.

Eventually children grow

Learing to stand on their own,

They fall in love as their parents

Did before them,

In a never ending cycle of what has been,

What will be and what they will become.

We are all that child lost in the woods sometimes,

Crying out when no one is there,

Yet we find others to stop ourselves from being alone,

We brave the fall and most of all,

Become more then who we were alone.

Time's Laberenth

We all face the laberenth of life daily,

We fight against the trials of life

The ghosts of what has been,

The endless possibilities of what will be.

Sometimes it can feel like you are alone,

In a wasteland of your own thoughts,

Still the memories of happier times in those moments

Will rise up and make the isolation

Seem not as deep as it was before.

Like flowers we each have our moments,

In the sun, before we slowly fade away.

Everyone fights their own battles,

Some might scar deeper than others,

But we all have our wounds from life.

We all are used to strife, until one day,

The bad things that happen to other people,

Don't seem to matter as much as long as we are safe.

Some harden ourselves to the suffering of others,

As we continue down the winding paths,

Of the laberenth of life.

For if they didn't the paths the maze show us,

Would become unbarable.

Cages

Sometimes it seems as though we live in guilded cages,

Trapped in the cage of our own fears.

In our imaginations we can be brave,

Warriors on a quest or followers of a strong and powerful king

We can go places no one else has been,

Or dare to dream of things that are wild and free.

Still the cage of our fears holds us in,

Some to a greater extent than others,

As we go through our lives.

Some don't even realize the trap that they have put themselves in,

While others are all to aware but have no idea of how to escape.

The constant wondering if we are making the right action,

Is but one facet of the cage.

Some break though the cages bars,

Determined to face their demons on the other side.

While others turn to dust inside their cages,

Never knowing freedom,

Always wondering what would have happened,

If they had been brave enough to face their fears.

The cage of life is fear,

But hope is the key to set us all free.

The Fates

The fates watch over our lives,

As the sun sets and the moon rises.

They watch as we are born,

Live and die, all in a blink of the eye.

They watch the darkness of this world,

As well as the light.

They watch as great heroes battle,

Against horrible odds and prove that

They are fighting for a worthy cause.

To them all of creation is but one story,

A tale to entertain, as they look

Into worlds in their long existence.

Sometimes they meddle in the tale,

Changing aspects of the story.

Still for the most part they are content to watch,

As people and things attempt glory.

Yes the fates watch over all our battles,

From those that are great to those that are small.

Grandma's Ashes

Though I stood upon the mountaintop and looked down into the valley.

I was with my father then, ten years after my Grandmother had died.

I was still but nine years old, a mere child,

What could I have known of a lady who had died three months before I was born?

As I looked out upon the Canadian Rocky mountains,

Off to visit my father's family for the first time.

I had forgotten about my Grandmother until with one mighty thrust,

Her ashes spread through the mountains and out to sea.

They were born aloft upon the wind.

I know someday that I will have to do the same for my parents.

My parents had divorced only two years before,

What did I know of Mothers and Fathers?

I was only nine years old a mere slip of a girl,

Hoping that the world would last for another hundred years.

I knew nothing of the world's problems and thought that everyone would be my friend.

That hopeful thought tended only to end one month past my eleventh birthday.

So you see my friends of false words and lies, its time to realize.

There is nothing we can do, if people continue to believe in nothing but the world's end.

Mirror Girl

She stares at me every morning and every night.  
Her hair pulled up she dares me.

She gives me quite the fright.

This warrior maiden,

Charges forward on her charger of dreams.

The plans she has seem important then.

However her world is but a looking glass.

A shade child of reflected waters upon the glass.

She moves as I move, breaths as I breath.

Although this child is not me,

She is the thing that stares back at me,

My opposite in all things.

The mirror child, the child I might have been.

The sending of magic and thought.

This girl is everything I'm not.

Defending The Devil

Upon one summer day I remember so clearly.

A woman came to me and destroyed me nearly.

She was nice as nice can be,

However She had scars that no man could see.

She wished to take them out on me,

It was rather clear that she did not want me near.

This demon child in disguise,

Made me well realize that there is something insane

In never admitting that you have the blame.

She beat all trust out of me,

When I was shouting and screaming in my head.

She was making my knees turn red.

When no one was around I would cry,

However when asked I would reply.

Nothing I just fell down, so this friend could be around.

NEVER AGAIN

I now swear, never again will I let someone treat me like that.

Never again will I allow someone to make me like them,

Flat and angry too, now is the question,

Am I flat or are you.

My Other Mother

Kate was with me from the age of eight,

She was the one who gave my father and I Harry Potter.

She made my childhood so much more then it would have been.

She was truly more then a friend or family, how we would walk together

Or talk of small things, of looking in the joy in tiny objects.

Something that could be held in your hands and examined from every angle.

She showed me how to love the world and everything in it.

Then another thing happened, in the fall she became sick.

She had to go away, she was the only one I could talk about everything with,

The only one who would give me advise about everything including my own life.

I remember her taking fish after fish and attempting to keep them in a fish bowl.

One sat decomposing for several weeks in a row.

Then one received a death by stoning

Yet a third died in a way that isn't quite clear to me.

She had a small parakeet named tukie throughout my childhood until,

She stepped on him while attempting to clean up her apartment.

She had two other small birds as well that would perch on her shoulder,

gently pecking at her like vicious guard dogs,

They were too, threatening to bite if anyone else came near.

Her hair is the color of a carnation, always clipped back short and wildly curly.

She almost died, but somehow she survived.

As she stepped from the car, she had lost half her weight her hair was completely gone but she seemed so very happy. I was so happy to see her again that I couldn't help but hug her. She was fragile but so strong, so very beautiful.

We spent most of the afternoon together,

As the family I remember from every weekend my entire childhood.

She seemed years younger instead of older,

Not the same person who I had seen just before Christmas,

What I had thought was her last Christmas.

I missed her so much.

She inspired me never to give up, never to give in and to truly believe in myself.

By believing in myself I would be truly free.

Desire

I want to know all worth knowing

I want to see all worth being seen

I want to find what is hidden

I truly just want to be,

Want to be free.

Unbound by what is knowing,

Unbound by what is seen,

I'll search for what is hidden.

For only then will I truly be free.

I want to find what is forgotten

I want to search behind every stone,

I want to understand what the world has gotten,

By being so alone.

I want to find all worth finding,

I want to search the sea,

I try to find all the wonder,

Bring it back to be seen.

For only then will I truly be free.

Defending The Devil

Upon one summer day I remember so clearly.

A woman came to me and destroyed me nearly.

She was nice as nice can be,

However She had scars that no man could see.

She wished to take them out on me,

It was rather clear that she did not want me near.

This demon child in disguise,

Made me well realize that there is something insane

In never admitting that you have the blame.

She beat all trust out of me,

When I was shouting and screaming in my head.

She was making my knees turn red.

When no one was around I would cry,

However when asked I would reply.

Nothing I just fell down, so this friend could be around.

NEVER AGAIN

I now swear, never again will I let someone treat me like that.

Never again will I allow someone to make me like them,

Flat and angry too, now is the question,

Am I flat or are you.

This turns out to be a joke because they are all props and when they check out they have to give it back to the great propmaster in the sky. I understand why this is so satefying to my students its like art, so unsophisticated and in the old style that we love to see.

Throw rocks in it and still not fall in. the writer's job is to turn things into words not just just unspeakable stuff. The truth of your own experience will come in your own voice. What you say will be an apstraction because it will come not from yourself but from some other's experience.

Icefire

The plumes of icy fire,

Gather with my every breath.

Cold winter morning,

Body filled with ice.

Stamp the colored ground.

A different world,

From that I am used to.

As I step the ice cracks under my feet.

Thin liquid spilling out in little pools.

I sit down in the metal monster,

Sleeping the power within it hidden.

Until it roars to life,

As I ride in the belly of the beast.

Ice crystals form in flowery patterns in front of me.

I exhale as my mother gets in,

Controlling the beast,

Making it roar.

The beauty fading inward,

Melting, slowly.

Until it is gone,

Only a morning like any other remains.

Fire Lady

A lady of flame, lighting everything she touches.

So much that it goes beyond all description.

A true companion of the heart,

A connection so deep that it runs to my bones.

Although we may not be tied by blood,

She is a part of my heart.

Someone to tell all my secrets to,

My fears and tears,

Hopes and joys all shared.

Nothing hidden,

Within myself, no need to hide.

Sometimes it feels as though she knows me better then myself.

Less then a mother,

More then a friend,

An indescribable bond that will always link her to me.

Someone who is always there for me when I need her.

She inspires me to be myself in every way,

I will never forget her until my dying day.

The Seen and Unseen

There are two parts to every person, those that are seen and those that are unseen.

The first is their appearance to the world and to themselves,

The second is hidden deep inside,

Waiting for a time to break through to the surface.

To surround, to surrender to find to bind to seek, to be found.

A warrior and a woman both struggle within me,

One side gentle,

The other side longing to be free.

Surround the hate growing inside, don't let it out, just make it hide.

The warrior wants to fight,

The woman wants to be free,

But as long as they are together, both can never be.

Surrender to your weakness,

Fight for what is right,

To see the unseen and insure that many battles will come out alright.

Finding things out about myself,

This I can learn from no one else,

No one can truly see what its like to be me.

Binding myself, to the life I wish to live.

The threads cannot be cut so easily.

Binding myself, to the love I wish to give,

Hoping that it won't all be taken away from me.

Seeking for answers, when I don't know the questions.

Trying to see in a world where I am blind.

Seeing myself in other people,

Finding the doors that open and then close behind.

Opening the doors and peering into the person I could be,

Seeking for freedom, as it is meant to be.

Finding myself is a dream that is yet to be seen.

Giving a Piece of My Soul

Each day, I feel as though I give a piece of my soul away,

Away, from where I wish to be.

Finding the paths that were once cut from me,

Walking the roads that seem difficult to me.

Seeking forever, to find something of meaning.

Looking always, for some answer,

When I don't know the question.

Finding the world,

As it tilts on its axis.

Finding the life,

Of this small planet.

Trying to hold as much in my hands as possible,

Finding myself and listening to my dreams.

Seeking for knowledge, that once I knew but lies forgotten.

Broken dreams that I try to repair.  
Every day, I fix my heart to make it stronger

However I fear that I'm making it weaker.

Finding the darkness hidden inside of me,

Trying to make it not get control of me.

Every day is a battle,

Always I fear that I am loosing.

Yet why try to win, when it doesn't seem to matter in the end.

Sometimes I think I should just die, before I loose myself

Into this person I'm becoming.

Other times I find, that being who I need to be,

Is worth all in the end.

However how do you get back to the beginning.

Is Love Worth it After all

Is love worth the attraction and the repulsion of two people,

Is it worth the shouting and screaming, the hoping and dreaming?

Is it worth the failed understanding, the misapprehension?

Is it worth the fire you feel in your stomach and the pain when they are not around?

Is it worth the crying and the wail of one lonely sound?

Is it worth the feeling, the feeling as if you had drowned?

Is it worth the dancing around, never touching on what needs to be said.

Is it worth the hiding, the seeking not to be found?

Yes, I belive that its worth all that and more,

For without love, what does humanity have to live for?

How Many Roads Must A Woman Walk Down?

How many roads must a woman walk down,

Before people seem to understand,

How many times must one woman cry,

Before it reaches a man?

Yes and how many times must we turn our heads,

And say its alright not to be free?

The answer my friend is in the sky,

The answer is in the sky.

How many thoughts must one man have,

Before he wonders why?

Yes and how many things must one woman say,

Before they make an outcry.

Yes and how many generations will it take till they know,

That too many women have died?

The answer my friend is in the sea,

The answer is in the sea.

How is that women can't be who they are,

How men equally are restrained?  
What is it that drove us this far,

How can we get back on our feet again?

Just stay strong and try to get along.

What will it take for them to see,

That women should be free.

The answer my friend is the earth,

The answer is the earth.

Why must we always be the ones to be weak?

How can it be said that we don't care,

That we aren't treated the same.

How equality is only the same,

How it's a man's world,

How can they play the same old game.

Just stop equality from just being a name

The answer my friend is in the fire,

The answer is in the fire.

Trying to find myself, stoppen just short of seeing.

Lookin for the forgotten answers,

Lookin for a cause to belive in.

Got to seek the meanings, the stories that should be told,

As my life changes from green to gold.

It seemed so simple,

All my dreams were clear,

Now that time is forgotten,

Along with what I used to hold dear.

Everything seems to be changing,

Constantly rearranging,

It seems, all I got is my dreams,

And I need to be strong, to learn how to belong.

Put one foot in frount of the other,

Make a stand for what you know is right,

Trying to see why we all need to fight,

Being hateful is just not right.

I know that in the future,

I'll be better, sronger smarter someday,

Not so innocent, somehow

Sometimes I wish the future was now

What is life

Is it war or strife,

Is it caught in the meaning of one knife?

Is it the seeming or the dreaming?

Is it the knowing or the growing,

Is it the mysteries, the unexplained.

Could it be in the end its only a name?

A name for the unknowable, the unseen,

The wish, the hope, the plan, the dream?

It it all that it seems, a collection of mismatched hopes,

Of broken dreams, of some old man's schemes?

I don't know, but in the end life is more then it seems.

Awash upon a sea of uncertainty,

I try to find my way to reality.

The currents force my spirit in all directions,

My soul is unsure of where to go,

Where to flee, before it is washed away by the endless sea.

The sea of people and places, things said and done,

The currents of society, trying to make me one.

Yet I feel undone, torn at the seams,

Trying to know my wishes, hopes and dreams.

Perhaps even in reality, nothing is as it seems.

The world may just be someone's dreams.

I manage to find my way to a stream,

There in the calm waters, I can be me.

However to be around others, I must first risk,

The currents of culture, the waves of humanity.

The hopes, joys and calamity.

Sometimes I wonder if its worth it at all,

However I refuse to fall under it all.

To drown in the sea of uncertainty,

To stop being me, in order to fit in,

I'd much rather be free.

Perhaps everyone is different,

Different

Perhaps we should all take the world by storm,

What's wrong with our differences anyway?  
I wish that the whole world would go out and play,

Instead of the worthless violence they employ,

The blood of innocence they seem to enjoy.

I'm not so innocent somehow,

Perhaps I should live in the moment,

In right now?

I don't what to do or say,

Everyone seems different in their own way,

I'm so confused, people turning my head this way and that,

Like I some marionette on the government's strings,

What's the fun in that?

We should all be together somehow,

Try to live in the moment try to live in right now

I'm so tired of people not understanding me,

When I'm trying to be who I want to be,

While conforming to the rules of society.

Somehow I should live for the future,

While living for right now.

Who am I really, I can't tell

All I know is, is that the world is far from swell.

Who am I

Who am I,

To question others, when I do not know myself?

Who am I

To try to know myself, when in myself I am unknowable?

Who am I,

To try to find the answers to the forgotten questions.

Who am I to pay attention to those around me,

When they all seem to ignore me?

Who am I

To escape reality constantly?

Who am I

To be incapable of being proud of who I am?

Who am I,

To try and stand tall,

When I feel so weak?

Who am I,

I don't know, but finding out is part of the journey.

Get your head out of the clouds girl,

This is not the time nor the world,

Its hard to understand,

why people can't be kind to their fellow man

There's not much else to say,

Other then everyone is different in their own way.

So many things are wrong,

that its hard to see the things that are right

Trying to understand the reasons,

Behind the hatred and spite

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Why you looking up at the sky,

Dreaming of days gone by?

So hard to understand why,

As you think of the state of the world,

Trying not to cry.

Smile though you don't what to smile for,

In this endless war.

So many things are wrong,

that its hard to see the things that are right

Trying to understand the reasons,

Behind the hatred and spite.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

There's no need your airheaded dreams,

They are happy enough , left to their scymes.

You don't need to save the planet,

You just need to sit by a brook and dream.

Of a better world,

which will never see the light of day.

For people always seem to get in the way.

So many things are wrong,

that its hard to see the things that are right

Trying to understand the reasons,

Behind the hatred and spite

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Somewhere a boy lies dying,

A woman crying,

A man sighing.

A little girl sleeping.

Her parents weeping,

Her big brother is never coming home.

The smile he gave her when he left to protect her.

To defend her and his god.

For this boy was born in Iraq,

The shot that was never heard,

A soldier's uniform he wore.

The blood spilled he bore.

The sound of the never ending war.  
The name taken in vain,

All the pictures never seen of the slain.

Somewhere another young man dies,

For his people, yet no one gives an outcry.

No one says that we were told lies,

There are no answers to what was done.

There will never be, till we are truly one.

'

I feel the spirit within me,

Opening my eyes to the world I cannot see.

Finding the things hidden, the way the world is meant to be.

The sky is the limit, as long as we can learn how to be free.

I feel myself soaring on wings of pure light,

I feel myself strengthening against the darkness of the night.

I feel myself learning how to be free,

To be unbound, as I was meant to be.

I feel myself finding reality,

The reality of those that have come before,

Within others and within me.

Get your head out of the clouds girl,

This is not the time nor the world,

Its hard to understand,

why people can't be kind to their fellow man

There's not much else to say,

Other then everyone is different in their own way.

So many things are wrong,

that its hard to see the things that are right

Trying to understand the reasons,

Behind the hatred and spite

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Why you looking up at the sky,

Dreaming of days gone by?

So hard to understand why,

As you think of the state of the world,

Trying not to cry.

Smile though you don't what to smile for,

In this endless war.

So many things are wrong,

that its hard to see the things that are right

Trying to understand the reasons,

Behind the hatred and spite.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

There's no need your airheaded dreams,

They are happy enough , left to their scymes.

You don't need to save the planet,

You just need to sit by a brook and dream.

Of a better world,

which will never see the light of day.

For people always seem to get in the way.

So many things are wrong,

that its hard to see the things that are right

Trying to understand the reasons,

Behind the hatred and spite

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Just somehow I'm unable to,

I feel lost no matter what I do.

Fire burning bright a bright light to all it touches.

Warm and safe embraces,

As the flames of love lick all around me.

The gentle tendrils reaching out in a caress.

Without this fire I will surely be a mess.

All things however must end in time.

Though it is so very hard,

To see the fire slow, to go down

To a soft and gentle glow.

Then it will be out entirely.

On that day I will burn too,

I will roar and rage,

At the unfairness of it all.

Then I will settle again my own flame,

From this fire I became.

It helped me to grow strong,

It made me want to protect, to cherish to love.

To care for those that are in need.

Flame's start to flame's end,

I'd embrace that fire all over again.

Starlight and moonbeams,

Hopes, fears and dreams.

Dancing upon ribbons of light,

I smile and look down upon all that is in my sight.

The music just seems right.

I fee as though everything is wonderful.

I have no reason to fear dancing my life away.

For now I simply have to dance and listen as I sway.

Lost

I feel lost inside, my heart seems to be breaking apart.

You never know what one person means to you,

Until your close to loosing them and you have no clue what to do.

I feel so raw inside, all I want to do is close my mind and hide.

Build up barriers from the pain, but if I do I may go insane.

I'm terrified of being fragile, of having myself let go.

Even so what else can I do, other loosing a part of myself,

That may be already lost, whatever happens, my innocence will be the cost.

We all have to grow up in time, but why does it have to be so hard,

When with being who I was, I was just fine.

I can't shut myself down, turn off all feeling,

Before the toxic nature of despair sends me off again reeling.

I almost lost her once, why so soon again?

Its as though my world is at an end.

I'll make a new one in time,  
To deal with the pain, the heartache and shame.  
That I didn't spend as much time with her as I could.

Life is so fleeting, the stopping of one heart beating,

Makes all the others around it go tired for a time too.  
However I will hold my head up high, look to my heart and then to sky.  
For even if there's no heaven or hell, I know this well.

She's watching over me in everything I do.

I Try not to cry, though my tears mean not a thing

Its not as though they will stop it from happening.

I try to understand, but its not understandable.

The death of an old life and the birth of a new.

I don't know at all what I'm going to do..

Its hard t feel, through so much pain.

Give me a sign that you won't be gone forever.

I'll try to not cry as the days go by.

Hope for the most hopeless of things.

Courage through the covered cloth of fear.

The important thing is to hold memories dear.

To never forget the happy times and sad,

To be glad of the life, instead of desulute by the death.

To love life in every moment, every breath,

To live for them and to laugh,

To not do things by half.

To look up at the sky and wonder and dream.

Even for a time, part of you will scream,

You will find thease moments in every day,

Until ultimately you are able to go about your day.

Building a bridge

Somewhere far away,

Someone slips where I cannot now go.

If it was possible, I d build a bridge of light,

Just to see her once more.

A bridge of dreams that I shared with her.

A bridge for all the ways that I cared for her.

She was my mother in all ways that mattered.

I'll love her as one until the planets fall from the sun.

All good things must end in time,

However why must this be mine.

I want to shout don't go,

But it would be wrong to try to hold her here.

Change comes and change goes,

All the same I will always love her so.

The wonder of the weaving,

The slightest sound, to the loudest call.

The weaver catches it all.

As they sit by an old tree,

Tying off threads to a tapestry.

Some are done to early, others done too late.

Though the ending of a thread is not for sadness,

Rather a time to celebrate.

The life that's liven, the love that's given.

The hearts bound up in sadness.

There's no accounting for that loss,

The one thread that seemed to hold everything together.

Now gone from the tapestry forever.

The tapestry of life and death,

Of love and fear, of holding the things you love dear.

Through it all it keeps growing,

The life of those involved keeps showing.

One thread out of countless others,

Weaved with utmost of care.

For what other reason would the tapestry be there.

Life is full of things that can't be reasoned,

Its just quite simply there.

There are the six who see everything I do,

They see me laugh and smile and cry too.

They are my family in every way,

I know they'll protect me till my dying day.

These spirits of those that I loved and lost,

Those that I never knew at all,

They'll pick me up when I start to fall.

They'll always watch over me,

To see that I'm fine..

Giving comfort as best they can,

In a world that they have left for a time.

They are in my heart and they will forever so be.

I will feel their love for all of eternity.

Angel Flight

From death and darkness,

Comes light and brightness.

From the dark to the light we fly,

Endless creatures of the sky.

Never truly wondering why,

Why we go from here to there,

Anywhere our hearts takes us.  
We always feel the light that makes us.

The light that takes us

As we stand by,

As the centuries pass and the years do too,

We sentries stand for this planet and you.

Death life and earth, there will always be rebirth.

The sky is full of the infinite, the divine.

The earth anchors our souls to this planet,

The spirits guide us as long as we are able to listen.

We are the children of gods and spirits;  
we are the light that defeats the darkness.  
We are the sun, moon and sky.

We are the ones that wonder why.

Sky high, I close my eyes and think of you.

Wondering what your doing,

In your life that's new.

I know its true, I'll see you again.

For in my heart you'll always be my friend.

You guided me, when I needed you.

When I was alone and afraid and knew not what to do.

Now you're gone,

In my heart you will always be with me.

Its so hard to be strong, to hold my head up high,  
To not cry when I feel a part of me has vanished too.

I don't know what to do.

To dispel the grief and angish.

I hate being helpless but that's how I am without you.

Moon stars and sun, why can't we all be one?

We spend such a short time on earth.

Why must we always be trying,

To show our own worth?

We try to show that we're better then others at birth.

Using things like religion and war,

When I want to shout what for!

Why must we hate when there is,

So much about others to appreciate?

People never know where to go in time.

Can't you see that all of humanity

Is standing on a landmine?

If someone puts their foot down

in the wrong place,

That will be the end of the human race.

We spend so little time,

On the things that are important.

Family and friends,

people so often use them to achieve their own ends.

How can we love when there is so much hate?

Isn't there some way for everyone to mediate?

I guess if there was no conflict, there'd be no resolution.

Still I wish that people would stop hating each other

Then come to a solution,

Of the problems we all face,

Instead of trying to harm others

Of the human race.

If we continue this,

We'll be missing without a trace.

Some are born too early, others born too late.

Life should be a chance to celebrate,

Waiting can only be a cause for hate.

Sease the moment, do not wait.

Every day can be a clean slate.

A chance to love, to live, to give.

A chance to dance, to prance, to romance.

To smile and say today is a beautiful day.

To celebrate life, with all its troubles and strife.

To say I'm alive and that's okay,

To rejoice in each and every day.

Spirit Guide

Soaring upon wings of pure light,

There is no reason for alarm or fright.

Instead there is an opportunity to glory,

In the sight, of close up starlight.

I feel the power stir within me,

Anchoring me to my body down below.

However my guide goes on,

I hesitate and too late,

The vision is gone.

I Believe In Forces

I believe in the force for good,

As well as the force for evil.

I feel such things are more then just primeval.

I believe in the wind,

As it dances and plays with the leaves.

I believe in water and how it laughs.

I believe in never doing things by half.

I believe that we are not the only ones,

As for gods I feel that there are more then one.

I feel as though there are too many forces,

For one man to control on his own.

Even an all-powerful deity,

Would struggle constantly,

With all the things done and undone.

Warring children as well,

As those that wish that we were all one.

So I believe instead in forces,

That helps to set our courses.

Flowers of the night, blooming bright.  
Shadows on my mind, I find that I'm missing you.  
There's a hole in my soul where you used to be.  
I find that your always on my mind.  
I can't stop thinking about you,  
The way that I adore,  
all the little things you found worth living for.  
I find pleasure in small things too,  
Its all because of you.  
You made me who I am today,  
I wish we could have so much more to say.  
If I could turn night to day  
make a bridge out of sunlight and moonbeams  
I'd go to you, to talk for a time,  
To tell you that I'll be fine.  
I think you know that anyway,  
but I have to say, that I'd love to hear your voice.  
To see your face, but your in another place,  
Where we all go one day, where it is I can't say.  
This I know, no matter where you are there are people,  
That love you so.

Upon a day, I find that the sky comes to mind.  
The light that's brightest is the light that's lightest.  
I try to not shy away, as the bright light hits my face.  
Blinding in its beauty, one can't help but to admire it s purity.  
You have to admit that light is quite a sight,  
Especially when clouds partly obscure it,  
Or encompass it in moonlight.  
The light is all encompassing in its might.

Chess Pieces  
The white king stands tall on the board,  
Surrounded by friends and enemies.  
A heroic figure of might, strong and ready to fight.  
The pieces one by one do fall,  
Throughout it all the white king stands tall.  
An emporer survaying the board,  
until finally the civilization is swept away.  
A new white king to take up the play.  
The black king fights hard, always on his guard.  
Trying to find what way to go, to fight destiany  
Even so, the game is decided upon who is better at strategy,  
The players just peices in the end,  
Till no one can recognize foe or friend.  
Then with one last tryamphant play,  
The game is over, the guiding forces done until another day.

Mother  
Always there, always kind, a force I can shelter behind.  
She shares with me, all of value  
Yet I find that I try to find my own mind.  
She supports me no matter what I do,  
I know she'll help me muddle through.  
This strange yet wonderous world I live in,  
Sometimes I find it best to give in, to fallow her advice,  
At the same time I know I must take the harder path,  
Finding my own reason and my own season.  
For that's what daughters do.  
Everyone has their own way of seeing the world,  
And I have mine, but every time I share something I think important,  
It gets jumped upon until the idea is gone.  
Wasted in snetiment and muddled with other's ideas,  
I don't know how to calm my fears.  
Until once more I slip into my quiet pool,  
Where sharing not with others is the golden rule.  
There free of the fear of judgement I take the time,  
To try to know my own mind.  
My mother's advice lies abandoned,  
Where perhaps at another time,  
When I wanted to hear instead of be heard,  
It would have been fine.

Starlight and moonbeams,  
Broken hopes and broken dreams.  
The pain inside bursting at the seams,  
My illusions of life, were nothing more then delusions.  
A reality that is ripped apart at the seams,  
Then sown haphazardly back together,  
Leaving no room to scream.  
All I can do is suffer through the pain,  
Trapped in a seemingly endless loop,  
Until I question wether or not I'm sane.  
My world is again broken and I find,  
I'm picking up the shattered pieces,  
Of my idealic mind.  
I am changing  
As I try to understand,  
The world I actually have at hand.

It takes a while, for a smile now.  
Somehow I don't feel like smiling,  
At this moment, anymore.  
I feel used up, tired and sore.  
The pain in me a resovore,  
Set to explode,  
with not much to goad.  
I have trouble in sharing,  
My feelings sometimes seem,  
Like the only things I can control.  
Such is living outside the mold.  
All are imperfect in time,  
Still I find that I'm outside the lines,  
More then most.  
Sometimes I feel like a ghost,  
Of a bygone era and time,  
Or one that never existed,  
Or was all in my mind.  
There's no set way to grieve,  
To share, to grow, to know.  
There's no set way of living life,  
Still I wish that there was a little less strife.  
That more people could think as I do,  
About life and the gift of it that always seems new.

Trying to tie the thread,  
To my reality.  
Trying to look for,  
Some connectivity.  
Trying to be strong,  
Though I don't know how to get along.  
Trying not to be confused,  
Though I feel so unsure.  
Trying not to let the pain drag me down,  
Though it hurts so much I can barely breath.  
Trying to see through broken eyes,  
I just want to believe.  
Trying to find answers,  
When I don't even have the right questions.  
Trying to be me,  
While who I am is in hiding.

Prisoner  
I want to shout,  
Want to break out.  
Want to be free,  
Want to be me.  
Want to find,  
What's on my mind.  
Want to see,  
Though I can be me.  
Feel so much pain,  
I'll never be the same.  
Though I keep on trying,  
I can't not change.  
I'm scared and I feel alone,  
Like no one's home,  
I'm in my own head.  
Like I'm the one that's dead.  
I don't want to worry anyone,  
I just can't pretend its all alright.  
I wish I could do something to fight.  
I feel oppressed by myself,  
Like I'm a prisoner of my own body.  
My own mind.  
I find that I'm going round in circles,  
When I should be going in strait lines.  
I want to be,  
Want to be me.

Every day it seems I put on a smiling face,  
To get through my sorrow.  
I feel to some level that I deserve to be hurt,  
That I shouldn't see tomorrow.  
People in my life would be better off if I didn't exist.  
There'd be no need to worry, because I wouldn't be there  
Getting in everyone's hair.  
I try to explain, try to reach out, try to shout.  
Though it seems no one will listen.  
I need to know what I see,  
Who I am and what its like to be me.  
Things that happen around me are strange,  
I wish I could be normal, that I could change.  
It seems that I will always hear the voice inside of me,  
Calling out my name.  
As though somewhere something,  
Is waiting for me to come.  
I'm just wearing a mask,  
hiding behind pretty words and feelings.  
I didn't ask, for my compass to be sent reeling.  
Everything is so turned around, I'm having trouble finding ground.

Flight  
As you can not hold a bird in hand  
You have to let it fly into the night.  
There is so much to know,  
So much to let go.  
So you can truly find,  
What you long for in your mind.  
There is a longing to be kind,  
To seek out the bird that cannot fly.  
Then release it to the open sky.  
For a bird in flight,  
Is truly the most beautiful sight.

Staring out my window into starlight,  
I wonder what's happening out of my sight.  
Trying to find meaning to my life.  
Fighting the darkness with all of my might.  
There's so much to see, so much to know.  
So much to find, that you don't know where to go.  
Life is confusing, as much as its amusing.  
The night is full of darkness, as much as its full of light.

When water reflects off of light,  
It sparkles in a thousand shades.  
The water washes upon the shore,  
Bringing up once important things.  
Before washing them away,  
From where they once came.  
To where they go,  
Which is impossible to name.  
The water rushes upon the shore,  
Scattering lives into the sand.  
Until the sand is once again clean,  
As it once began.

Alone  
Once upon a time,  
I trusted all to others.  
Now I don't know how,  
To tell another anything.  
I keep my secrets buried inside,  
Till I know not what I'm trying to hide.  
I bury myself and then, wonder why I'm alone.  
Why I'm afraid to show who I truly am.  
To anyone, for then they'd see,  
Thoughts burried inside  
which I try to hide.  
My secret armor.  
Its better to hide.

Pieces of Myself  
Pieces of myself lie scattered,  
Throughout all I read and write.  
I try to find the goodness,  
Of this dark world.  
That seems to lie,  
Just out of sight.  
I try to make beauty,  
Where there is little to be found.  
My poetry helps me,  
Want to stick around.  
When it hurts with every breath,  
And I think of my death.  
Without fear.  
I hold my pain inside,  
Trying not to see,  
Trying not to be.  
Though that can't be.  
Then there comes my poetry.  
All joys and sorrows,  
Hopes dreams and fears,  
Of all my tomorrows.  
I package them in pretty words,  
So I feel less alone.  
Sharing them with no one,  
Makes me feel at home.  
I can do this, I can create,  
For me it proves I'm not worthless.  
Gives me a chance to celebrate,  
Who I am and what I undercover,  
What I discover with each passing day.  
So forgive me if I don't much like sharing,  
If I'd prefer if you thought everything was okay.

Dissapointment  
Disapointment is my worse fear,  
Of not being good enough,  
For those I hold dear.  
I try to stop thinking like that,  
Then I just get stuck ,  
In that bottomless pit again.  
Where I'm screaming inside,  
For someone to know me,  
Someone to see passed  
The little show I put on.  
To find those places inside,  
Which I thought were gone.  
However only I can truly see me,  
Find the common thread,  
Look for all the holes in my armor,  
Patch them up again.  
I need to stop feeling as though,  
No matter what I do will ever be good enough.  
That's what I find is so tough.  
I don't know how to say what I mean to say,  
Then people look at me oddly and I have to start again.  
I just wish that I could fit in.

Different  
Everyone feels different I suppose,  
Just like each rose is not the same,  
Each person has their own name.  
To some life is like a game,  
To others a chance to stick a claim,  
To say, hey this is me,  
If you like it, you know where I'll be.  
Though I am different from them,  
I feel like I'm a burning flame.  
Bright and beautiful,  
Though too hot to touch,  
To be enjoyed by all.  
The thought of that makes me stand tall.  
I want to help others,  
Though at the same time.  
I'd rather keep my flames,  
Just let them be all mine.

Flames  
I have been through fire,  
I have been through ice.  
Though the ice is harder,  
The fire is still nice.  
I have been tempered,  
Upon a battlefield of  
Misunderstanding.  
I feel as though,  
Even I don't get,  
Why life is so,  
Demanding.  
Why does it have,  
To be like this?  
Why can't I simply just be,  
Without having to struggle,  
To understand those around,  
My fellow man.  
Why must I be different,  
Why can't I just understand?  
Or be ignorant and think,  
That the entire world is grand?  
I wish I could just bury my head,  
Into the cold and dark sand.  
Never have to come out,  
Never have to want to shout,  
What is wrong with man?

Stars  
We all are like stars,  
Each on our seprate path in life.  
Orbiting our seprate planets,  
Dancing around our seprate suns.  
Wondering why we can't all be one.  
Sometimes in the dark of night,  
We find that we've drifted close together,  
For a short time,  
Before the drifting apart.  
Life is full of art.  
The stars race across the sky,  
Never really asking questions.  
Never wondering why.  
Until with one bright light,  
They fall into darkness once more.  
The sky never again the same,  
As it was before.

Ties  
We all have our ties,  
Some are made out of ribbon,  
Others are made from steel.  
All the same they bond us,  
To what and why we feel.  
The cord that is tied around,  
Our lives is knotted with many threads.  
Still the way in which we make our armor,  
Shows that we can feel.  
We build these ties,  
To show that we are loved.  
That we matter to someone,  
Though we long for a guiding hand,  
That forges the links and ties,  
That are our own bonds.  
It is better to believe in ourselves,  
Before we believe in anyone else.  
Then the ties that bind us will be strong,  
Just maybe then people could be better,  
At simply getting along.  
If we showed these ties for everyone to see,  
Though we keep them hidden,  
Each in our own reality.  
The ties that bond go on,  
Even after the person that tied them  
Is forever gone.  
We can find the ripped threads,  
Torn steel and make again real,  
Our armor of what we feel.

Free Spirit  
How can you box up a spirit,  
Chain it with locks of your own making?  
A spirit ought to be free,  
It ought to flow, where others dare not to go.  
It should fly upon wings of light,  
while avoiding that would do it harm.  
The broiling eddies, that set it off its course.  
The other spirts that wish to box it in,  
Though a spirit can only be free,  
If it truely wishes to be.  
There are chains to each and every spirit out there,  
Binding to what and who knows where.  
However as long as the spirit keeps in sight,  
That which makes it worth flying through the night.  
Then emerging into the sunlight it breaks free.  
A free spirit is truly a wonderful thing to be.

Hands  
The hand of love,  
The hand of war,  
The hand of things,  
Worth fighting for.  
The hand of peace,  
The hand of hate.  
The hand that wishes,  
Simply to celebrate.  
The hand of chance,  
Some call it fate.  
The hand that reaches out,  
Before it is too late.  
The hand of youth,  
The hand of rage.  
The hand of happiness,  
The hand of old age.  
The hand of little things,  
Done and undone.  
What if we could gather,  
These hands together,  
Make them all one.  
We'd form a unity,  
Of hands stetching,  
Far and wide.  
Here and there,  
Though always by your side,  
There would be one hand,  
That is your own guide.  
This hand is your own,  
Do with it what you choose,  
After all what is there to lose.  
It might hold gems,  
Wealth untold.  
Or it could hold the simple things,  
A cleverly fashioned bauble,  
A pretty word or song,  
It could just hold character,  
That is very strong.  
No matter what,  
We must use the hands we are given,  
To get along.

Lavender Rose and Rosemary,

The strong scent that fades,  
With time until all that remains

Is the memory.

The subtle fragrance of a rose,

That stays with you for a while,

Before ultimately fading.

Lavender the scent that is carried,

With you and that you think fondly of.

They are all beautiful flowers,

Yet, by two have withered and died.

I thought I would never find another,

That one of my vases would be gone,

For all of time.

Until one day, I happened by chance,

Upon the lavender,

That stood in a meadow, of other flowers.

I picked it up and added it to the vase,

Where upon I stared at it confused for hours.

I had never been very good,

with taking care of flowers.

I didn't want this new one to fade as well,

Still I had no way of knowing

How to go about convincing it to stay.

However I didn't have to convince,  
That lavender of anything.

It welcomed me with open arms,

I felt war and safe, as well as cherished.

I didn't have to act like anything around it,

I could just be me

Be free to say what I thought of the world.

For that priceless gift, the lavender gave me,

I will be forever thankful.

The smell of hearth and home,

The feeling that you aren't alone.

The simple pleasure of a day,

Of work and play.

Of learning new things,

Of knowing you aren't alone.

Of simply writing,

About everything,

Yet at the same time nothing.

Seeing others and knowing,

Absolutely that they accept you,

For who and what you are.

Of learning about things,

Simple and complex.

Finding commonality,

Feeling truly blessed.

As you've already guessed,

I'm not very good at saying,

What I wish too.

So instead Noreen and Dick

This poem is for you.

Thank you for everything,  
You've done for me,

I've come to think of you both

As Grandparents,

People I can look up to as well.

I enjoy our time together,

Knowing you has made me,

Become more free in who I am.

Thank you so much for accepting me.

In a way knowing you,

Has given me the courage to go out,

And get to know others too.

Gratitude

Lavender Rose and Rosemary Page 1

A Poem of Gratitude Page 1

Lines in The Sand

Pink Lady Dance Around

Angel Flight

Spirit Guide

Life Goes On

Life is like the wind

Moonlight

Sky

Free Spirit

Poem to a Far Distant Star

Stars

Starlight

Sea of Uncertainty

Mirror Girl

Alone

The Quiet Stream

Stream of Society

Dance

Stifled

Tides

Turn Again

Giving a Piece of My Soul

Lost

Ties

The Tapestry of Life

Pieces of Myself

Forged in Ice and Fire

Chess Pieces

Man's Kingdom

The Wasting Of the World

Weeping for the Fallen Warrior

It Takes A While to Smile

Starlight and Moonbeams

Prisoner

Dissapointment

Different

Moon Stars and Sun

Poppy by the Sea

The yellow flower, petals open to the sun,

As it blows in the ocean breeze.

The center is a golden sun of color.

Then it spirals out soft golden petals.

Through a haze of grasses and flowers,

The sea can just be seen.

It seems as though I'm walking,

In a beautiful dream.

On one side is nature, wild untamed.

Across a sea of asphalt,

The other side is man's creation,

Houses in neat rows,

As well as apartment buildings,

Or a trailer park.

The sight is both beautiful and sad.

One can imagine how the land was before,

How animals roamed this now empty

Stretch of land, its difficult to understand.  
Why man must always conquer,

The land and make it their own.

When the beauty of it is already at hand.

Soaring through the sky,

Bending the clouds,

Loving and fighting

Standing tall and proud.

The myth, the legend,

The knight's day,

Has turned to night.

Along with those,

Mystical dragons,

That they once had to fight.

Instead of damsels in distress,

Women now fight on their own.

Which is both good and bad I guess,

For it is good to have the option,

To stand with someone or alone.

There are more options out there today,

As well as fewer things to do.

For me I like the world that is new,  
Rather then the one that came before.

Still its enjoyable, to think of those long ago tales.

Of dragons with scales,

Who horded mounds of gold,

Who kidnapped maidens,

In days of old.

Of knights on white horses,

Who were sure and secure,

In what they had to do,

Who fought for honor and glory,

As well as what was right to do.

Of maidens who were lovely,

Fair and beautiful ladies,

That didn't know how to be strong,

Who would instead faint at the sight.

Of a dragon coming out of the night.

Though the tales and the tellers are long gone,

The memory of them still lives on.

War Machines

It seems as though no one,

Is connected with their past anymore.

We have forgotten more,

Then we once knew.

In the name of progress,

We have left behind,

What once was part of,

All of mankind.

We forged a new future,

Forgetting the past.

Having machines make our clothing,

Rather then small stitches done by hand,

As was once the norm,

For all of man.

If something is faster,

We use that way, rather then the old.

If possible, we'd have our machines,

Turn silver to gold.

We forget what has come before,

Therefore we are doomed to make the same mistakes,

That lead to bloodshed and war.

Soon our machines, will fight our wars for us,  
Leading the whole world,

To a bloody chorus.

The land destroyed,

People dying,

Then again they die everyday.

They aren't us after all,

So after we're done, the countries stained with blood.

We go home once more,

Though for those others we hurt,  
Their lives are never the same,

As they had been before.

Sea Turtle

There is a legend,

Of a turtle,

who carries the world,

Upon his back.

He swims through,  
Time and space.

As all of the creation in the world,

Continues to ride upon his back.

I think it would be lonely,  
To be that turtle,

With all the weight of the world,

Upon his shoulders.

It would be wonderful,

As well, as terrible.

Never knowing what had become,

Of the planet he carried upon his back.

Carrying on his duties still,

Holding nothing back.

As the planet changes,

Rearranges too,

The careful sea turtle,

Continues on,

Past day and night,

Sunset and dawn.

The sea turtle, just continues on.

Going places that makes sense,

Only to it and to no one else.

It carries the world on its back,

Until with alas and alack,

It tumbles from its back,

It flies away through time and space,  
Such is the end of the human race.

Atlas

A man cursed to carry,

The world on his shoulders.

The man who can never,

Again join his family.

A man punished by the gods,

By his family as well.

Betrayed and abandoned,

As he continues on.

Past pain and suffering,

He is beyond such things,

As well as love and joy.

He continues to toil,

Always alone,

As he holds up the earth,

Never able to go home.

Once he was a man,

Both strong and proud.

However now,

He's weighted down,

With worry and strife.

Caught between the sky,

As well as the sea.

A mighty man,  
Once was he.

Now he toils,

Day after day.

The planet on his back,  
The burden that will

Never go away.

Oh Atlas,

Keep your burden still,

For if you were to drop it,

The entire planet would

Come to ill.

Dragon Dance

Dragons dance across the sky,

Diving and rising through the air.

Like acrobats without equal.

They twirl and whirl,

Spin and swirl.

Like blurs of color,

Of glinting scale and leather wings.

Of bygone eras and things.

They fight and play,

Sunning themselves during the day,

Guarding their caves, during the night.

As they live, just out of sight.

They breath fire, showering the earth,

With their primordial light.

If I could only see one,

It would surely be a wondrous sight.

Still they have vanished into the night,

Of myth and legend,

They are nothing more,

Then mere fantasy.

Or perhaps they never existed at all.

They fall down to earth and all that remains,

Of them is bone.

However out of that bone and stone,

They are awakened again and again,

In memory they now fly,

Through the thoughtful reliquary,

Of forgotten dream filled skies.

Fairies

In the flowers and the fields,

Fairies dwell, helping the blossoms,  
to bloom and grow.

Scattering the morning dew,

Loving the old and the new.

Little people, fair of body and mind.

Though a trickster's nature,

They hide behind.

They perch upon branches,

They take delight at confusing the humans.

They dwell in small trees,

Or underground, finding beauty.

Treasuring the world in which they live.

They help the birds and the grass to grow.

They are of nature, both mother and sister to it.

They rejoice in things both simple and infinite.

Light dances upon walls and ceiling,

Casting shadows and rainbow light.

As the crystals spin, so does the light.

It reflects and bounces everywhere,

Seemingly without a care.

Giving everyone delight at the sight.

Multifaceted prisms of color,

They seem to dance and play,

Causing delight in the day.

Until all that I want to do,

Is stay and look at that sight.

It turns light to a magnificent thing,

Worthy of court or king.

Then the light changes somehow,

The rainbow colored light,

Is gone for now.

Yet I know it will return someday,

To dance along the window pane,

To run along the walls,

To be chased by young children,

Or cats and hide

So it can't be seen at all.

Yes this light would surely fill,

Anyone with delight,

As they look out the windowsill.

My Childhood Mother.

The way she would take my hand,

Give me encouragement, helping me to stand.

How she would take me into the woods,

How she taught me bad from good.

How she comforted me, when I felt bad.

She would make up games,

And tell me the names of all kinds of flowers.

She would sit in the forest,

Telling me stories for hours.

She showed me the world,

As well as my place in it.

She allowed me to be myself,

When no one else seemed to understand.

She reassured me that one day,

Things would be better.

She taught me how to get along,  
In the world and how to rely,

Upon others, rather then just myself.

She gave me this world,

The forests, the meadows the sky.

She allowed me to question,  
To wonder at life and live it.

Its because of her that I breathe.

She helped me to perceive the world,

Both the bad and the good.  
She has always been by my side,

Someone I could rely upon,

Someone that even in my darkest moments,

Helped me to hope for the dawn.

So this poem is for her,

Even though writing it

has made me slightly insecure.

Of this she can be sure,

I will always love her,

There is truly no other then mother.

My Adult Mother

I do not know this mother,

As well as the one I knew before.

The bond we share is a new one,

Forged as I've grown older,

Perhaps bolder as well,

As for that I cannot tell.

I'm starting to see her more,

As a person now,

Less like a goddess.

I find that our bond though strong,

Has become even stronger lately.

As we learn to rely upon one another,

As well as see each other as people,  
Rather then mother and daughter.

Both mothers are one and the same,

However its hard to see the change,

To understand what is hard to name.

To appreciate all sides of her,

As I try to understand who she is.

I feel as though she is trying to do the same,

Though it is partly my fault,

Lately I've felt as though,

We are strangers in all but name.

Getting to know her again,

Is like rediscovering an old friend.

The bond that we share,

Can never be broken,

There are some things in life,  
Which cannot be spoken.

Rose and Plumb Blossom

The rose is sweet in bloom,

It carries a wonderful perfume,

Yet all are warned against its thorns.

Which are finger's doom.  
The flowers though sublime,

Bloom only for a short time.

As beautiful as they are impermanent.

The plumb blossom, on the other hand,

Is a heartier flower, though it too

Is sweet to smell and looks beautiful.

It blooms in trees, lofty above one's head.

They sway in the wind,

Until one by one, the blossoms fall,

Leaving behind for the fall,

Sweet fruit that will outlast them all.

Foxglove

A flower that looks like small bells,

That rings the death toll,

For those that are foolish enough,  
To eat more then they should.

Though it looks beautiful,

It has a darker nature,

That is hard to forget,

Yet easy at the same time,

As you see it blowing about in the wind,

A thing of beauty,  
Though deadly if given time.

I feel as though the flower's

Duel nature is just fine.

Borage

A flower that looks strange to sight,

But sweet to taste,

Lavender petals protect a purple center.

A hearty plant, that stays hale,

When other flowers begin to pale,

As well as fail and die.

A pleasant sight to the eye.

It reminds me of a knight,

Biding their time,

Before conquering the world.

Though it grows slowly,

It can conquer almost anything,

It is a flower for which people should sing.

Lavender

Beautiful tiny blossoms,

Showing wonderful splashes of color,

Tiny cone shaped flowers  
That can be relaxing for hours.

A smell both sweet and strong,

That gives comfort and calm.

That is beautiful to smell and sight,

That makes the whole day seem light.

Lavender is a wonderful flower,

Which makes others long for it,

Often and for many hours.

When dried, it gives sweet perfume,  
To everything, in the room.

It reminds me of a elegant french lady,

With her skirts blowing about in the breeze.

A thing that is beautiful

Oh how I love these flowers,

I could enjoy them for hours.

Lilies

A plant that is both beautiful,

As well as ugly.

White curved petals,

Surround a orange center,

Full of a powdery pollen.

Poison hidden in those beautiful petals,

A sly insidious scent,

Poisonous to taste,

Yet people give gifts of them in haste.

I don't understand,  
Why lilies are so beloved by man.

Calendula

A flower as golden as the sun,

That smells of long summer days,

As well as work well done.

A beautiful sight that gives delight,  
When seen upon a dream.

A healing flower,

That is nice to devour.

When applied to bruised or broken skin,

It helps the healing to begin.

Calendula is man's steadfast friend.

Rosemary

A flower that is strong, yet sweet.

It adds savor to everything,

A robust flower,

That seems to grow with every hour.

Sometimes it has purple blooms,

That are beautiful, in any room.

Though it is best,

Not to plant it by another.

For it is a jealous flower,

That would gladly overtake the other.

Still it is fair for the most part,  
At times Rosemary seems like,  
A work of art.

Daisy

A flower that used to drive me crazy,

When I was small.

They seem to grow everywhere,

As well as being sweet and small.

I remember spending time,

Attempting to form chains of these flowers.

Quite frankly, I think I wasted more hours.

Then I succeeded in making them stand out.

Pretty flowers with golden centers,

They grow thick in some grassy fields,

While vanishing in others.

A flower that most likely has been given,

To generations of mothers.

Yet I think that Daisies are sweet flowers,

Even now that I am grown,

I could enjoy them for hours.

Sage

A fuzzy plant,

While sweet to smell,

It has a strong backbone,

Though it is beautiful as well.

It's a fine plant, to be sure.

It was used long ago,

For healing and to bring peace.

It was ceremonial as well,

Precious to the people,

By which it dwelled.

Its still used to this day,

To cleanse hearth and home,

From negative energy,  
Thoughts and feelings,  
That may be left behind.

Sage will always be,

Something that is in,

Other's minds.


End file.
